prestidigitatiion

[prestidigitatiion]

sept.

The immediate reaction from the young girl was one that was faintly familiar to Septimus; after all, he served as a hired mercenaries and, sometimes, the jobs he was hired for were jobs set forth by concerned parents looking for lost children - lost children who were not simply lost to be precise. His suspicions were further confirmed when, in addition to that purely visceral and instinctive reaction, by her tattered clothes as they came into view since her scramble away from him had served to kick his old coat off from around her and the way that she clung to the tiny bag not even big enough to carry a blanket. However, the thing that got the biggest reaction from him was the brand seared into her palm, one he was intimately familiar with.

Rage twisted at his features, turning them into something nearly animalistic as he gestured sharply for Mika to remove herself from the back of the truck with the barrel of his gun. As he did so, his left hand released its grip on the amulet hanging from his belt, the faint light dissipating into nothingness. Turning sharply on his heel, Septimus paced a few meters away before, with a sound similar to a growl, he brought his revolver to bear on a tree to the side of the road and squeezed off two shots, the sound echoing like thunder in the enclosed space.

Panting slightly with his rage, his holstered the revolver back on his belt and turned back to face Mika. Staring at her silently for a few moments, eyes flashing as he fought to fight back his anger, he quickly shrugged his coat from his shoulders, chucking it to her in a flutter of thick fabric. “Put that on.” With his anger still present, his voice remained clipped and barked.

Feeling restless in his anger, he grunted in annoyance and began to pace back and forth, his hair escaping from the bun it was tied into and causing a few strands to fall in front of his face. With one hand, he reached up to remove the glasses from his nose, sending the world into a blurred appearance, whilst his other hand reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. Breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling obviously, he finally came to a stop, facing away from Mika and staring out into the thick forests of the Wilds.

“Are the fuckers that did that to you nearby.” No longer as clipped, his voice now held a dangerous, forced-stoic sound to it, anger still curling beneath his words like an impatient predator.

          his visceral anger sent waves of pure terror coursing through her, paralyzing in their intensity.  she followed his jerking motion and slid out of the back of the truck, trembling now, too shut down to run even when he turned his back.  at the gunshots, she flinched violently, hands moving to cover her ears and face, pressing her hair over her eyes and stifling a reactionary scream.  silence was necessary for survival and she’d mastered it in situations where she wasn’t actually being harmed.

          slowly, she removed her hands from her face, eyes saucer-wide as he turned back around.  he could kill her, she realized, with a creeping cold that clung deeper than the elements.  when every moment was easily her last, she thought perhaps her fear of death would lessen over time, dull into a distant ache that only sharpened when necessary, but it was incessant and demanding even in times of peace.  in moments like this, it was overwhelming to the point of debilitation, the opposite of its purpose.

          she caught the coat by pure instinctual reflexes only, grasping it tightly with white-knuckled fingers, her eyes never leaving him.  this command did not quite process, his demeanor suddenly altered to something approximating kindness, and she held it close to her chest instead, subconsciously shuddering in gratitude for its warmth.  slowly, so very slowly, her muscles began to unknit as she watched him pace, remove his glasses, rub his nose.  all were actions that made him vulnerable, and a thin strand of cat-curiosity began curling up within her despite her wariness and fear.  she did not understand how he could turn his back to her.  was she so frail and helpless-looking?  or was he simply so confident in his abilities to defend himself even from unseen danger?  likely it was the second.

          her fingers twitched, still holding his coat, remnants of adrenaline yet effecting her muscles.  when he spoke, it was not the question she expected, nor the tone, and she wondered if she had become so unused to humans as to forget their behaviors, or if he was simply so different.  he was an animal, like her.  a well-spoken animal, but an animal nonetheless, and that made him simultaneously familial and dangerous.

          it was human emotion that flooded her at his question, though, the sharp fear of charles, their leader, mixed with the horrible bitter-sweet ache of kevan, once her friend.  she buried her face in his coat, trying to shake the onslaught of memory.  for all his sins, kevan was still a victim as much as she.  despite the brand he’d pressed into her hand, despite everything.  hot tears pricked her eyes even at the thought of it, but still some glass-like shard remained within her that loved him, like a boot on her throat, or a sword in her heart.  she could not sicc this man on him, not for all the pain in the world.

          she brought her face up, barely, just enough that her words would not be muffled.

          “no.  i don’t know.”  her throat was thick, choked like some passageway long-forgotten.  “it’s fine.  it doesn’t matter.”

[prestidigitatiion]

eri.

The sound of soft breathing filled the air around Erienne as she lay off to one side of the room, staring blankly into the still, night-darkened air above her head. Surrounded by teen girls her age, each one toughened up in their own way from the rough life of Juliano, Eri could not find it in herself to relax her tensed muscles and drift off to sleep as everyone else had. While the majority of the group viewed each other as friends, Eri couldn’t help but feel like she stood separate from them, having been dragged there by the only person she considered her friend: Lux Lane, also known as Pixie.

Sighing to herself, Eri pushed herself up so that she was resting on her elbows, messy ashen-grey almost white hair falling around her face in tangled waves. Emerald eyes flecked with gold flickered from formless shapes curled up around the room, the slumbering bodies of her peers. She had been trying, as much as she was comfortable with, to reach out to the girls and yet she still felt distanced from them, disconnected from them by some unfathomable gap.

Swiping a hand across her face with an annoyed grunt, Eri shifted in place, turning over onto her side. As she did so, surrounded by other girls, she was more than a bit aware of the weight of her cock resting softly between her legs. Since she was a child, Eri had been taught to never undress in front of others, to never reveal herself. At first, she had not understood and simply followed what her parents had told her. It had taken until she was older for her to understand exactly why she had to hide herself from her peers - despite growing breasts, petite as they may be, between her legs Eri possessed both male and female genitalia (testicles included).

Of course, her oddity was something that she had never revealed, not even to her best friend. Eri understood how odd, how unusual, it was for her to possess a cock and balls and she knew well that, more often than not, people feared what they did not understand. Distant from her peers as she may be, if Pixie was to look upon her with fear or disgust she was certain that she would not be able to find it in herself to continue to socialise with anyone. However, hiding her hermaphroditic nature was becoming more difficult as puberty really began to hit and the beauty of girls, and Pixie, in particular, caused rather noticeable bulges to form in her trousers that, so far, she had been able to hide.

Reaching out, brushing aside thoughts of her manhood and the beauty of her only friend, Erienne reached out slowly to poke Pixie’s shoulder from where the pink-haired girl lay nearby. When she spoke, Eri’s voice was nought more than a cheeky whisper. “Hey. You still awake? I can’t sleep. If I must suffer, so shall you.”

          pixie had always been a people person.  there were exceptions, of course, but on the whole people instinctively liked her, and she liked them in return.  the fact was, she had a hard time understanding why eri didn't get along with the other girls, and had taken it upon herself to drag eri to every social group hangout in the hopes that simply spending enough time together would change that.  so far, things didn't seem to be improving, but she was nothing if not an optimist.

          in her opinion, the world was vast and beautiful and full of color, and each person had their own wonders to discover if one was simply willing to put in a little effort.  mercy was deeply philosophical if one could get her to start talking; alina was incredibly intelligent beneath her cold exterior. aneko, marta, and valerie, though all were fierce in temperament and deadly fighters, had their soft spots, too.  aneko believed in loyalty and honor in an inspiring way, val pushed her body hard because she wanted to protect others, and marta, despite being perhaps the most hard-faced and unkind of them all, loved designing clothing.  as with most things, pixie found, one merely needed to peer closely to see the beauty inherent in all things.

          she'd spent the day juggling time spent with eri with time spent with the other girls, bringing them together in conversation as often as had seemed comfortable.  as each dropped off into sleep, her mind ran over the day, reviewing each facial expression, each shift in tone, and filing the information away for future behavioral adjustment.  she would sleep, eventually, but she found she required much less than most, and was always either fully awake or fully asleep.  the hazy liminal ground between waking and sleeping where people blinked blurred eyes and stumbled around grumpily was utterly foreign to her.

          so, when eri reached over to poke her and whisper, pixie lifted her chin from her arms and tilted the girl a grin.  "i'm up," she replied, keeping her voice almost equally quiet.

          she only ever slept on her stomach, wings aloft, but the positioning was rather uncomfortable when awake, so with promise of conversation she pushed herself to a sit, scooching closer to where eri lay.  cheeky smile remained in place as she brushed back hair messy from a full day of activity, though the pink strands fell back into her face as soon as they were released.

          "being awake with me is suffering, is it?" she teased.

[prestidigitatiion]

sept.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, the night sky already gone, washed away by the yellows, purples and blues cast by the strengthening light, when Septimus Yeren began to stir. The night had been rough, the Wilds living up to its unpredictable nature by throwing an anomaly born from the Winds at him, a storm that had appeared out of nowhere and necessitated him hunkering down just to protect himself from harm. Unfortunately for him, he had been far from his truck when the storm had reared its head, stuck separated from his gear and equipment due to him seeking and ultimately killing a mercenary band that had dared to steal from him. As such, bereft of his normal gear and protection, he had curled up in a burrow and slept fitfully.

Standing to the sound of cracking joints and groans of pain, Septimus stared down at the dust and dirt that clung his coat, attempting to brush it off as much as possible but only succeeding in removing most of it. Grunting in annoyance, Septimus eventually gave it up as a failed job, resolving to clean his clothes as soon as he returned to his truck. Having stopped his futile attempts, the Azuma turned his attention instead to ensuring that no dirt had gotten into the mechanisms of his revolvers, that they were still functional. Thankfully, they were, so, with a final grumble at the pain in the old injury on his left shoulder, aggravated by the uncomfortable position he had slept in,he set off back to his truck; a lit cigarette hanging from his lips as he did so.

It took him around an hour to find his way back to his truck - his mind still foggy with sleep and, thus, causing him to lose his way - but in the end he did find his way back, smoke from his third cigarette curling around his scowling features. Approaching with the stomping of boots, Septimus opened the back of the truck to grab a fresh change of clothes only to be greeted with an unusual sight. A young girl, surely not even in her twenties yet - around a decade younger than he if he had to guess - was currently curled up in the middle of the truck, one of his old and tattered coats pulled tightly around her.

Freezing for a moment, mismatched eyes of amber-flecked-with-navy and emerald-fading-to-white scanned over the curled up form, taking in as many details as he could with his old coat drawn so tightly around her. A starting red halo spilled around her head, her hair falling free and messily across her face and across the bed of the truck. From between strands of copper, he could make out an almost alarmingly high amount of freckles dancing across the pale white skin of her face. Beyond that, he could make out no other details, burrowed beneath his coat as she was; almost as if she were nothing more than a wild animal sleeping in its den.

That moment of his freezing and taking in the appearance of his guest could not last forever, however, and soon the retired smuggler turned freelancer and mercenary fell back onto habits - trusting them to guide him through the unfamiliar situation. With his shock fading into the faintest stirrings of anger, Septimus backed up a few steps, one hand dropping to waist to grasp the medallion hanging from his belt, a faint glow seeping between his fingers as he gathered the Winds to him in preparation to strike out, while his other hand (his right) smoothly withdrew and cocked one of the revolvers and pointed the barrel directly at the young woman.

“Who are you?” Septimus was not feeling charitable enough to let this young woman sleep, as easily proven by his barked question. “C’mon, up. Up! Slowly, mind you ‘less you want to paint the insides of my truck red. Now get the fuck up and answer me. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?!”

.

          the back of the truck opening barely roused her, but at the sound of his barking voice, mika's eyes snapped open and every muscle in her body went rigid with fright.  his tone registered before his words, and she instinctively scrambled away from him, bashing herself against the far wall of the truck bed with all the intelligence of a cornered animal.  the coat fell from her as she did so, cold air sweeping over her body and raising goosebumps on her exposed flesh, freckled knees and elbows poking through holes in clothes so worn they looked fished out of a rubbish bin years ago.  her hair was wild and tangled, but did nothing to obscure plate-wide eyes, fixed upon him with raw terror.  the animal side of her brain was screaming at her to run, but her still-waking consciousness was struggling to remain calm, despite the man's revolver and scowl.

          too late, she processed his order, and felt her chest seize up even as she counted herself lucky she hadn't yet been shot.  it must be his truck, and of course it was; she cursed herself.  no one would leave such a thing unattended without it getting scooped by raiders in minutes.  she'd been stupid enough and cold enough to climb into someone's truck and wrap herself in their coat and not expect a gun to the face.  his reaction was reasonable.  she tried to calm her racing heart to no avail.

          still cringing away from him, she raised her hands in surrender, reluctantly letting go of her small bag of junk, a pack that looked fashioned entirely from scraps of garbage and not even big enough to hold a blanket.  slender fingers spread and the brand on her right palm came into view, a cross with a smaller horizontal line just below the T, one he might recognize if he was at all familiar with azuma slavers.  it looked long since healed, though not nearly as old as her clothing or shoes, soles held on by dirty strips of cloth and paste.

          it was only the open sky that made her feel not utterly trapped, only the wind that chilled her to the bone that kept her from going mad with terror at the mere thought of being cornered with nowhere to run.  she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again.

          "mika."  her voice cracked immediately from disuse, and she shuddered a little before trying again, brows creasing with a pain that was equal parts cold and fear.  "i'm no one.  i'm sorry.  i didn't know the truck was yours, swear."

[prestidigitatiion]

.

         “sure, whatever you say,” murdoch replied, tone casual, attempting not to look vaguely amused by the faces his new companion was making. it was a messy business, killing humans, not as morally clear-cut as fighting monsters, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. especially when it came to cultists, who were on the whole impossible to reason with.

         he hung back, letting alec take the lead, allowing himself to subtly study the other male now that they were free from the heat and chaos of combat. he hadn’t been allowed to interact much with the others of his order, the elders too worried he was at worst a traitor, at best a bad influence. consequently, he’d had pitifully few friends --- and none his age --- since he was twelve. it was a strange feeling suddenly being paired with a peer.

         grabbing one corpse by the shirt, he heaved the body overtop one of the others to form a pile, barely reacting to the awful stench of burnt flesh.

         “burn more, you mean,” he joked, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

“Well. Great.“

Alec stood amidst the dead cultists, frowning down at their corpses. Orcus was a foul create, and he never understood how humans could follow such a mad thing. But they always did, and he always seemed to be found by them. 

“Thanks for the help. This was unpleasant.“ 

Stepping over one of the burnt corpses, he made a face. “We should burn the bodies. I’ll work on the ritual to destroy this little temple of theirs once all the corpses are ash.”

[prestidigitatiion]

.

         “--- complete?” she echoed, frozen in place, eyes fixed upon him.

         she’d gotten separated from her party, and had been hoping she could find them before anything else found her. apparently she wasn’t so lucky.

          mika was a tiny thing, a skinny girl of sixteen, clothed entirely in black with a small pack and shortbow slung over her shoulder, quiver and daggers at her belt. a dog stood beside her, tongue lolling, wagging its tail, apparently oblivious to his intimidating aura. she, however, had survival instinct enough for the both of them, and every muscle in her body was taut and primed to bolt at the first sign of danger.

         “i don’t know what you mean.”

“You must have been skilled to make it so far. But coming to this stronghold was a mistake. At least, from your perspective. From my perspective it’s rather fortunate. Another soul to complete.“

[prestidigitatiion]

         “it shouldn’t be a day more on broom, and the ministry’s already set us up with a room at a local inn. we’ll have to land somewhere in the forest and walk in, as it’s mostly muggles, but that shouldn’t take too much extra time.”

         he was busily stuffing a duffel bag full of only the necessities --- not that it couldn’t hold more, what with the charms on it, but there wasn’t honestly that much they’d need besides wands and their wits.  they were still low-level interns, so the auror department likely wasn’t too worried about this mission being difficult, but they were stretched a bit thin of late.  scorpius radiated a sort of nervous energy; he hadn’t sat down in hours.  it wasn’t enough just to get the job done.  he wanted to do it right.  he wanted to impress them.

[prestidigitatiion]

         remus didn’t normally smoke, and when he did, the vice was typically reserved for times when sirius had pressed a cigarette into his hand and they’d proceeded through the exaggerated tradition of eyerolls and faux peer pressure.  this time, however, he was alone in the stairwell, lungs full of smoke as if that would somehow haze the cascade of thoughts pressing through his mind, maudlin and demanding.  his head was tilted back against the stone wall, legs splayed half-bent before him, flagstones soaking cold into the seat of his jeans.

         he didn’t realize someone was coming around the bend until it was too late, and even hiding the cigarette swiftly behind his legs didn’t stop the thin trail of smoke from curlicuing traitorously upward.

         “shit.”

[prestidigitatiion]

ooc.

          it’s been so long i don’t even remember how tumblr works send help

[prestidigitatiion]

depressed kids in the media: I don’t wanna go to therapy! I don’t need help! I’m not some specimen for you to dissect!

me, rollin up to my therapist’s office and collapsing in relief: what is UP my homeboy I fuckin missed you,, hope ur ready to hear some Bull Shit that fuckin happened to me this week

[prestidigitatiion]

chibi creator!

row 1:  adinoj, alexei, alicante, alina row 2:  anastasia, belle, bliss, cassandra row 3:  cecily, charmond, chris, claudette row 4:  elphaba, ella, emma, eurydice

[prestidigitatiion]

@runedalexander / scorpius & alec

          ❛  --- alec?  ❜ 

          scorpius had been given a brief description and briefer directions on how to find the other shadowhunter, and had spent the past five minutes picking his way through the institute trying to find the training room without looking entirely incompetent or out of place.  he felt completely unsettled, but that was just the nerves of being in a new place without knowing what he was supposed to do or where he fit in.  as soon as things fell into a predictable pattern, as soon as he got assigned a job, he could focus and his nerves would settle on their own, but for now the best he could do was fake a steady tone of voice. 

          ❛  i’m scorpius malfoy.  from the london institute.  i was told to have you brief me on the situation.  ❜

[prestidigitatiion]

[modern witches aesthetic]  ↬ c i t y  w i t c h e s

“we are not gonna hide anymore”

[prestidigitatiion]

                                             MUSE PAGE // by @bycandleliqht

I’ve been struggling to find a muse page that fully suits my needs, so I finally decided to crack down and make my own. This theme comes in THREE VERSIONS! 

VERSION 01 features a JUMP LINK filter system and five fully styled information tabs per muse that pop up on click. Image sizes: 70x70 & 150x150. ( PREV   //   CODE ) if you’re having issues with this version, please check this update & this one before asking questions, as they may be addressed there.

VERSION 02 features an ISOTOPE filter system and five links per muse.  Image sizes: 70x70.   ( PREV   //   CODE )

VERSION 03 features a single muse layout, with five fully styled information tabs that pop up on click. Image sizes: 580x415 & 150x150 & 70x70.   ( PREV   //   CODE ) 

Each version has instructions written into the code. If you run into any bugs or just need some help with customization, drop me an ASK!

RESOURCES: isotope filter tutorial    //   linear icons

Basic theme courtesy applies. AKA edit all you want but don’t claim it as your own, don’t remove the credit, etc etc.~

[prestidigitatiion]

Please, in all this muddle of life, continue to be a bright and constant star. Just a few things remain as beacons: poetry, and you, and solitude.

Vita Sackville-West, from a letter to Virginia Woolf c. January 1926 (via joolabee)

[prestidigitatiion]

          ooc.  jalec on my dash: magnus: *downing a whole margarita without his eyes ever leaving the screen*

[prestidigitatiion]

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

deathless sentence meme

          part of magnus recognized the statement as a compliment — that flighty, vain, hedonistic part of him he kept around as a shield and mask — but it was far from a pleasurable one.  he had seen too many warlock children be crushed under the weight of their own self-loathing to not recognize a similar darkness in alec.  why he felt compelled to help the nephilim, when he normally kept his compassion strictly for his own kind, was beyond mere physical attraction.  was it not wrong, when it lay in one’s power to help someone, to turn them away?  he bit down the instinct to be flippant.

          ❛  it can be like that,  ❜  he kept his tone even as he turned, catching alec’s eyes and holding them,  ❛  when you fight against yourself.  ❜

[prestidigitatiion]

Sometimes one has got to become monstrous in order to survive.

Iris Murdoch (via asperitasrex)